Medievel Love
by Sailor J-chanDuoxHilde 4ever
Summary: The FRIENDS cast in the 1600's. How will their trials of love and government fare as the war between England and France continues? Ch. 2 up!! R/R
1. A Meeting Of Allies

Disclaimer-Friends isn't mine.

Summary-The Friends gang in the 1600's. What will become of everyone in their trials of love and government, as the war between England and France continues?

Note-Janice, Gunther, Chandler, Rachel, and Joey's parents will have original names, as will Rachel and Joey's sisters. If anybody knows their real names, can you send them to me so I can change them?

Casting: 

Main Characters

Rachel-Princess of France

Chandler-Prince of England

Monica-Rachel's servant, palace chef

Ross-Monica's brother, training to be a knight

Joey-Chandler's servant

Phoebe-Minstrel who plays in the palace

Parent of the Main Characters

Jack-Monica and Ross' father, Eric's advisor

Judy-Monica and Ross' mother, Melissa's advisor

Frank I-Phoebe, Frank II, Ursula's father, an artisan

Phoebe I-Phoebe, Frank II, and Ursula's mother, Rachel's governess 

Thomas-Chandler's father, King of England

Carly-Chandler's mother, Queen of England

Eric-Rachel's father, King of France

Melissa-Rachel's mother, Queen of France

Betrothed to the Main Characters

Barry-Rachel's betrothed, Prince of Spain

Janice-Chandler's betrothed, Princess of Portugal

Parents of the Betrothed

Philip-Barry's father, King of Spain

Tanya-Barry's mother, Queen of Spain

Derrick-Janice's father, King of Portugal

Samantha-Janice's mother, Queen of Portugal

Siblings of the Main Characters

Ursula-Rachel's servant, Phoebe's sister

Frank II- Phoebe and Ursula's brother, his Father's apprentice 

Jennifer-Rachel's sister

Courtney-Rachel's other sister

Melanie-Joey's 1st sister

Christina-Joey's 2nd sister

Lily-Joey's 3rd sister

Minda-Joey's 4th sister

Sarah-Joey's 5th sister

Laura-Joey's 6th sister

Margaret-Joey's 7th sister 

Others

Alice-Frank II's betrothed

Donald-Jennifer's betrothed

A Meeting Of Allies

Princess Rachel winced as the curtains were thrown back and the sun shone in on her face. Groaning, she pulled the blanket tighter around her and hid her face in her pillow.

"Come, madam, the hour of awakening is upon us," her personal maid, Ursula Buffay, said, holding back the curtains with tiebacks. "Their Majesties request your appearance at the conference."

"Why in God the Lord's name would they request me be there?" Rachel whined. "All it is, is a dull meeting where they try to press Barry onto me."

"I believe you just answered your own question, madam," Ursula said, biting back a smile. "Now, come. The dressmaker, the Baron Mark Picard, has just delivered your new dress for the meeting."

"If I must, I must," Rachel said, not sounding the least bit happy about it.

Rachel's dress was light brown, the color of a deer. Ursula pulled her hair back into a bun, formal enough for a meeting, but had a flair of wayward tendrils to make it attractive.

"You look splendid, madam," Ursula said, enviously looking at her mistress's attire, then looking down at her black and white maid's outfit. At least being Rachel's personal maid had awarded her high-heeled shoes. How wearing high-heels had evolved into such an honor nobody knew, but it was much sought after by maids or peasant folks to be considered rich or privileged enough to wear them.

"So, how fares Phoebe nowadays?" Rachel asked, slipping her feet into her own pair of heels.

"She's doing well," Ursula said distractedly. "Well, we must hurry if we are to reach the royal breakfast in time."

For the life of her, Ursula could not figure out her sister. They were identical twins, but they were so different. Ursula couldn't understand how clothes and fashion could mean so little to Phoebe. Phoebe wouldn't care if there were shoes on her feet, much less if she were awarded high-heels. Phoebe was most content in the courtyard surrounding the palace, among nature, with her harp. The only time appearance meant anything to her was when she was called to perform for the royal family. She took pains to look her best then, dressed in a white gown and her hair teased to perfection.

"Good morning, Mademoiselle la Princess," the palace chef, Monica Geller, greeted Rachel, curtseying. Monica was 16, the same age as Rachel, but her admirable skills at cooking and baking placed her among the top chefs in all France, and only the best was considered worthy of the royal household.

"Good morning, Mademoiselle Geller," Rachel answered, curtseying back. Noblemen and –women clucked their tongues as they passed, disgusted that a princess should show respect to someone lower in rank than she. "I suppose that you have outdone yourself for this morning?"

"That is so, your Highness," Monica answered.

"And how fares your brother, Ross?"

"Very well, your Highness. His training in the skills of knighthood are coming along exceptionally, and hearsay reports that he will be posted as a guard of the Bastille."

"Ah! He has my congratulations, then."

"I will report the message to him when I see him next, your Highness."

"Oh, Monica, stop calling me by titles," Rachel said, smiling. "You and I are best friends, you know."

"Yes, I know." Monica dropped her serious mien and smiled. "Mother tells me that I should make an exceptional actress."

"She speaks no lies," Rachel said, also smiling.

"Madam, I apologize, but their Majesties insist on your appearance," Ursula said.

"Oh!" Rachel groaned. "Very well. Monica, I shall see you in the stables?"

"Of course, your Highness." Monica dropped into a curtsy, her serious attitude returning, and walked off.

"May I present her Highness, the Princess Rachel!" 

The doors swung open and Rachel, slightly lifting her billowing skirts so as not to trip, walked into the room.

"Ah, the beautiful princess!" Prince Barry of Spain said, bowing to his betrothed. 

"Spain shall be graced to have such a beautiful queen!" King Philip of Spain announced heartily to his old friend, King Eric of France.

"Oh, stop it, you're embarrassing the poor girl!" Rachel's mother, Queen Melissa said, mistaking Rachel's flushed cheeks as a sign of humility rather than of anger and indignation.

Rachel's sisters, 15 and 14-year-olds Jennifer and Courtney, smirked smugly at Rachel. Jennifer put her hand on her beloved Donald's wrist and gave Rachel a look of pure spite.

Rachel made a face at her sister.

"Come now, Rachel," Melissa scolded. "Don't scowl."

"I apologize, Mother." Rachel shot Jennifer a glare and walked to her seat. A servant pulled her chair out and she sat down. To her disgust, Barry sat next to her.

"It is imperative that we receive those forces," King Eric started off the conversation to King Philip. "We have to crush the English dogs before they gain the upper hand!"

"Sire," Monica said, a trace automatically, as she set down a plate in front of King Eric.

"Of course," King Philip agreed. "General Little should be bringing his forces within the month."

"Oh, don't discuss this! Not here!" Queen Tanya of Spain said, her eyes darting to Barry and Rachel.

King Philip caught the glance and smiled broadly. "Of course. Why don't we discuss this later, while our happy couple strolls the gardens?"

Rachel was prepared. Turning her head slightly, she blinked at Monica.

Monica nodded and smiled. She picked up Rachel's cup and hurried off to the kitchen with it, only to emerge a few seconds later with Rachel's plate.

"My apologies, your Highness," she lied for the whole table to hear, "but your drink has yet to be prepared."

"Quiet all right," Rachel said. "I shall wait."

Monica hurried off to the kitchen and returned, holding Rachel's tea on a saucer. "Your Highness," she said, winking at Rachel.

Rachel picked up the scalding hot tea and drank down a large gulp. Her tongue burned as her face twisted to handle the heat. She curled her tongue and gulped before speaking.

"Mother, Father, my apologies, but I haven't been feeling well since I got up this morning," she lied. "I feel hot."

Queen Melissa looked at her daughter. "Good God, Rachel! You're on fire!" She snapped her fingers at Monica. "You, girl! Take Rachel to her chambers!"

"Yes, your Majesty," Monica said.

Rachel stood up, feigning weakness, and Monica took her arm in mock melodrama, leading her out of the dining hall.

Rachel laughed out loud as she slammed the door to her chamber shut. "We fooled them!"

"Poor, idiotic fools," Monica said, laughing, as she handed Rachel a crystal goblet of ice cold water.

Rachel gulped the ice water down, and continued laughing. "Such simpletons!"

"Phoebe has prepared the horses," Monica said. "Shall we?"

"Of course!" Rachel smiled. "Come, my friend, let's get changed!"

Well, was the first chapter okay? Compliments and constructive criticism are welcome. Flames will be used to heat the stove so I can have some more Top Ramen soup!

REVIEW!!


	2. A Friend Among The Enemy

Disclaimer-FRIENDS isn't mine.

Note-Well, I've got some real names for some of the people! Here's the new cast list!

Main Characters

Rachel-Princess of France

Chandler-Prince of England

Monica-Rachel's servant/best friend, palace chef

Ross-Monica's brother, training to be a knight

Joey-Chandler's guard/best friend

Phoebe-Minstrel who plays in Rachel's palace

Parents of the Main Characters

Jack-Ross and Monica's father, Leonard's advisor

Judy-Ross and Monica's mother, Sandra's advisor

Frank I-Phoebe, Ursula, and Frank II's father, an artisan

Phoebe I-Phoebe, Ursula, and Frank II's mother, Rachel's governess

Charles-Chandler's father, King of England

Nora-Chandler's mother, Queen of England

Leonard-Rachel's father, King of France

Sandra-Rachel's mother, Queen of France

Betrothed to the Main Characters

Barry-Prince of Spain, Rachel's betrothed

Janice-Princess of Portugal, Chandler's betrothed

Parents of the Betrothed

Philip-Barry's father, King of Spain

Tanya-Barry's mother, Queen of Spain

Derrick-Janice's father, King of Portugal

Samantha-Janice's mother, Queen of Portugal

Siblings of the Main Characters

Ursula-Phoebe's twin, Rachel's servant

Frank II-Phoebe and Ursula's brother, his father's apprentice

Jill-Rachel's 1st sister

Amy-Rachel's 2nd sister

Mary-Joey's 1st sister

Christina-Joey's 2nd sister

Lily-Joey's 3rd sister

Melanie -Joey's 4th sister

Minda-Joey's 5th sister

Laura-Joey's 6th sister

Margaret-Joey's 7th sister

Others

Alice-Frank II's betrothed

Donald-Jill's betrothed

Paulo-The stable boy of Rachel's palace

A Friend Among The Enemy

Phoebe sat in the courtyard; her beautiful harp set up in front of her. She had just seen Monica and Rachel off on their ride.

"Thank the Lord God that I'm not a princess," Phoebe said to herself, plucking the strings to her harp in a beautiful melody. "Poor Mademoiselle Rachel, engaged for political reasons. And to such a stupid, ugly man! Her father's decision, no doubt. Men!"

Phoebe Buffay had not yet had true love come to her. She'd had her share of beaus and was fully experienced in the arts of courtship and flirtation. Once, she thought she had found her special man. His name was Lord Gary, a police officer of the highest degree. But, in the end, they had parted ways. Phoebe had set her cap fully on her head after that. It was not worth the heartache and sorrow of the aftermath.

Phoebe plucked a few more strings before giving up. She was not in the mood for music today.

She stood up and smoothed her skirt. Today, she had chosen a dress whose skirt reached to her knees, a cloth strip tied around her waist, and a shirt with a small cape attached to it. Her feet were bare, and her hair was pulled back in a messy French braid.

"I think I'll take her Highness's example and go for a ride," she said out loud to herself firmly, heading in the direction of the stables.

The stable boy, an Italian immigrant named Paulo, flashed her a grin and winked at her. Phoebe ignored him, well used to his flirting, which was most irritating at times. Today, she walked past him without a backward glance as went straight to her own horse. It was a mare, light brown in color, with one white foot and a diamond on her forehead.

"Hello, Lightning Bolt," she said, gently stroking her cream-colored mane. She adjusted the blanket on her back and managed strap on the saddle. She slipped the bridle over Lightning Bolt's head and mounted. "Open the gates, Paulo," she said, nodding to the stable boy.

"Of course, mademoiselle," he said, grinning at her again and opening Lightning Bolt's stall door.

"Thank you, Paulo," she said. She lightly kicked her horse's side. "Yah!"

Lighting Bolt whinnied loudly, before sprinting form the stable at a run.

"There's a good girl," Phoebe complimented. Lightning Bolt threw back her head, neighing happily, and dashed forward.

Phoebe threw her head back and laughed, free as a bird under the azure sky, feeling as though she was flying on angel's wings.

"Come on, Lightning Bolt, you can do better than that!" she urged in her horse's ear.

Lightning Bolt snorted in response and picked up speed.

It was that time that a man decided to cross the cobblestone street.

"Lighting Bolt!" Phoebe jerked the reigns sideways. Lightning Bolt, caught off guard, veered to the side and nearly fell, but the horse was sure-footed and regained her balance.

Phoebe dismounted angrily and stormed over to the man her horse had nearly trampled. "What are you, mad?" she yelled, anger snapping in her eyes. "Couldn't you see my horse was oncoming?" She waited for a reply, which didn't come. "What, are you deaf as well as blind?"

"I'm terribly sorry, madam," was the quiet reply.

"You are not French," she said matter-of-factly, crossing her arms.

His head jerked to her in surprise, and Phoebe saw his face. His hair and eyes were dark brown, almost black. His face was almost oval-shaped, and had a surprisingly innocent look to it. "How did you know?"

"I'm a very gifted woman. I can tell these things. What nationality are you?"

He mumbled something incoherent, and Phoebe's anger grew.

"Tell me what you are, now!" she exploded.

"Half-Italian and Half-English." 

He waited for her to scream that an Englishman enemy had come, but she was still too angry for the interruption of her ride to take any notice that he was a citizen of their enemy country.

"Well, watch where you're going next time!"

"I'm very sorry," he apologized again. "Madam, I think something's wrong with your horse."

"Lightning Bolt?" Phoebe gasped, whirling around. Lightning Bolt was painfully lifting her foot up and down, neighing pitifully.

"Oh, my poor baby!" Phoebe said, dashing over to her injured horse.

He blinked, surprised at how panicked she was over her horse. Most girls he knew could not care less about the well-being of their rides, so long as they were well-groomed and socially adequate. It was refreshingly attractive to see such a beautiful woman in tune with nature. Why, she herself, in her simple peasant attire, looked like a wood-nymph from ancient legend. He had heard of the term 'Frenchwoman of elegance' and he was sure he had just found her.

Phoebe cut into his thoughts. She stood directly in front of him, glaring. "My horse, sir, has picked up a stone because of your ignorance."

"Perhaps, mademoiselle, your horse should have yielded to the passerby," he said.

"You impertinent little…!"

"I think I can fix it." He swerved around her and went to the horse, who was still lifting up her foot painfully. He took hold of her ankle and twisted it to see the stone lodged in her shoe. He drove his fingers into the crevices and clenched around the stone. Sweat dripped down his face as he tugged at it. Just a little further…

He went flying, landing on his back, and Lightning Bolt stumbled away, neighing. He straightened himself on the cobblestone streets, the stone held between his thumb and index finger. "There. I think your horse is fine."

"That was marvelous!" Phoebe exclaimed, all anger forgotten. "You must be a horseman!"

"No, I've just got a knack for it." He stood up, brushing dirt from his pants.

Phoebe took the lead bridle and led her mare towards him. "I can't thank you enough. This horse was a gift from my mother when I was just a child, and she's very dear to me." She patted her horse's mane affectionately. "So, what is your name, sir?"

"Joseph Tribbiani, but everyone close to me calls me Joey."

"Well, Joey, what do you say we go and eat? I know this charming little bistro not far from here, just a 10 minute's worth of walking."

"I'd love that." He followed her away down the street.

"So, what is an Englishman doing in France?" Phoebe asked, waiting with Joey for their food.

"I am to deliver a message from the palace of England in the name of Their Majesties, King Charles, Queen Nora, and Prince Chandler, to the French royal family," Joey said.

"Not everyone would believe that a message is your goal here in France."

"Are you saying…?"

"That people would believe you a spy? Of course. Anyone but I."

"And why would you not?"

"You have the aura."

"Aura?"

"Of course."

"I don't quite understand…"

"Not everyone does. You see, I have traced my heritage back and back to Rebecca, the Oracle of Mamre, and her powers I have inherited. When one lies, I can see it written all over their face."

"You mean you are a witch?"

Phoebe looked pained, as if she was remembering something dark and menacing, and she shook her head vigorously. "No. I am an Oracle, what you might called a Psyche. I can look into people's souls."

"Amazing."

"Yes, well, not everyone thinks so."

"How's that?"

But at that moment their meals were delivered, and Joey forgot about his question.

"I believe I could escort you to the palace," Phoebe said suddenly. "If you are with me, they would trust you."

"You would do that for me?"

"Of course, Joey. We can ride my mare." She started signaling the waiter.

"Let me pay for this one, Pheebs," Joey said, reaching into his money bag.

"'Pheebs'?" She gave him a strange look.

"Well, if you know my pet name, you should have one yourself."

"'Pheebs'…I like it." Phoebe smiled. "The only pet name I ever had was 'Pee-hee'. I liked it until I realized they were making fun of me."

"'Pheebs' it is, then," Joey said. He left 20 louis on the table, apparently having stocked well with French money before coming to the country, and stood up. Phoebe stood up as well.

"Shall we go?" Phoebe said.

"Let's."

"The Lady Phoebe approaches!" called a guard. "Open the gates!"

Lightning Bolt trotted onto palace ground and stopped as Phoebe pulled on the reigns. Phoebe dismounted and waited for Joey to do the same.

"Come, Joey. Their Majesties King Leonard and Queen Sandra await you."

*Dodges rotten fruit* I'm sorry for the delay!

REVIEW!!


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